lotrminecraftmodfandomcom-20200222-history
User blog:High Prince Imrahil/A short story
This is kind of a one-off, not connecting to AOPI or The Chronicles of Herendil. I made it on the MERP wiki as a backround for my character, but thought you guys might want to read it as a short story! Ecthelion, jolted awake in his finely-crafted bed after a horrible nightmare. Thirty days since The Guardian had left Lindon, and for Twenty-nine nights Ecthelion had horrible dreams of destruction and ruin. For Ecthelion was the captain of The Guardian, a swan-ship that sailed back and forth between Lindon and Edhellon in the name of Gil-Galad. But now he sate wide awake in the middle of the night, jolted awake by a nightmare despite the rhythmic rocking of the ship and the soft sound of light rain on the upper decks. Unable to sleep he lit a candle on his nightstand and read a scroll about the Battle of Sudden Flame. "Mmmhmm?" came a soft and half-asleep voice beside him "Is everything okay, Ecthel?" The voice came from his wife Luthia who lay beside him. "Yes, everything is okay" he said, stroking her hair softly "Is the light bothering you?" "No, Ecthel. . ." He kissed her brow lightly "Everything is okay, Luthia. Go back to sleep. . ." And she did. Ecthelion went back to reading his scroll but the memory of his nightmare haunted the back of his mind. The next morning Ecthelion awoke early and walked up the steps to the bow of the ship. "Are we almost to Edhellon, Rondel?" he asked the helmsman "Another day or so to go, sir." Fog enveloped the ship so that standing by the helm Ecthelion could not even see the stern. The fog worried him. . . "I don't have a good feeling about this voyage, Rondel. Are there any closer ports we could arrive at? Rest a few days then sail the rest of the way?" "No, captain. There aren't any ports in Anfalas big enough for this kind of ship. We have to make it all the way to Edhellon" "Very well. . . carry on, Rondel. . ." Ecthelion walked briskly back to the captain's cabin to gird himself with his sword. . he had a poor foreboding. . . "Is it morning yet?" asked Luthia sleepily, awakened by his footsteps "Yes, but it is early. There are several hours yet until the morning meal." "It is too early, Ecthelion. . .you need to sleep in more. . . always up so early. . ." "I know. . ." "Come back to bed, Ecthelion, sleep a little longer. . . how late were you up reading last night? Very late, I assume. . . " "I'll sleep more when we get to Edhellon, okay?" "Fine, Ecthel, fine. . ." As Ecthelion looked at the beautiful elven maiden lying in that bed, it seemed to him there was not a creature quite as fair in all Middle-Earth. Even sleeping she looked more beautiful then anything Ecthelion had ever seen, and the thought that she was his wife was incredible to him. He kissed her lightly and departed back out to the main deck . "Sleep more?" he thought to himself as he stepped out of the room "How about sleeping at all? I haven't gotten a wink since we left Lindon. . . just nerves, I guess, but what horrible nightmares that keep sleep from me like fell guardians of some ancient treasure. . . " "Sir!" exclaimed the lookout, interrupting Ecthelion's thoughts "We've got a Numenorean marauder at six points to starboard. . . I think they're following us!" A few of the mariners were up and about now, setting up the rigging and reinforcing the masts. All looked at the lookout in fearful wonder. "Are you sure??" shouted Ecthelion, for although the Numenoreans hadn't been on good terms with the elves since Sauron took over, open war had never been declared. "Aye! A Numenorean marauder, gaining swiftly and pulling to Starboard" "Ring the alarm bell, I want all marines on deck now! If they're going to attack I want to be ready for it! Nothing can pierce our fair armour and shields, not even the arrows of Sauron himself!" Then suddenly, as if in answer to Ecthelion's challenge, a sound like thunder was heard from their right and before the elves knew what was happening a canon ball had torn a hole in the hull. "In the name of Varda. . ." said Ecthelion in stark amazement "What devilry is this?!" The Numenorean vessel, now pulled next to The Guardian, let loose a volley of musket fire tearing thought wood, iron, and flesh. There was no declaration of war, no warning, not anything. The Numenoreans attacked without any due cause other then their hatred of elves, or "Gnomes" as the said in slang. And Ecthelion was powerless to stop them, the Numenorean ship being too sturdy to damage with arrow or stone. A second volley of musket fire tore through the ship, bring down dozens of elves with a sound like thunder. The elves that survived dived to the deck in hopes of surviving. Musket and shell pounded The Guardian to oblivion, barely leaving it floating. Masts and rigging were torn and scattered like a huge spider web, parts of the ship were in total flame. With the same evil silence it had come with, the Numenorean vessel left, considering The Guardian destroyed. Almost six hours later Ecthelion came to consciousness. . . His head rang and the ship was spinning . . . he fought to remember what had happened. . . Yes, the Numenoreans. . . what fell arts had they crafted that shot balls of metal through armour and ship?! he had been hit in the foot with a musket shell then hit his head on some rigging while falling to the ground . . . And what about. . . Luthia! She had been in the cabin when the Numenoreans struck! Ecthelion tried to get to his feet but was stopped by the pain shooting from his injured foot. Slowly, using a splintered piece of mast like a crutch he got to his feet. The first thing he saw was more dead elves then he wanted to see in a lifetime. The mere sight of it made his head spin and nearly sent him plunging pack to the wooden deck. Even Rondel lay lifeless. Ecthelion didn't see any living acrossed the entirety of the ship. The second thing he saw was that the ship wasn't at sea at all, but had ran aground on the coast of Anfalas. That was good news, at least, he would be able to limp to some farmhouse and get help. Ecthelion walked upon the blood-soaked deck, limping through the maze of wreckage and bodies to the broken door of the captain's cabin. As he pushed aside the splintered door he saw that the room was largely intact. . . except that musket ball holes filled the starboard wall. "Luthia!" he said hoarsely, and he pulled back the covers of the bed. There, upon blood-soaked sheets, lay his beautiful wife as peaceful as if she had never woken up. Musket fire had pierced her arm, leg, and head. Wild horror took Ecthelion as he scooped her lifeless body into his arms. That day, Ecthelion swore revenge on the killer of his wife: not the Numenoreans, for they had been only a tool, but the one who was truly responsible: That day Ecthelion swore revenge on Sauron. Category:Blog posts